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Someone like you should never be allowed to enroll in this school.
With your power, there’s no way you can become a hero.
You would be nothing more than a liability in battle.
I will not heal injuries like this anymore.
Worthless
Useless
Deku
Izuku stared at All Might as he once again reprimanded him for not having control of One for All. As he insisted Izuku just needed to work harder to become the next iteration of himself, the Symbol of Peace. The skeletal man gesticulated wildly as he complained of Izuku’s failure.
Like he didn’t work through the night to make top grades when his brain only wanted to focus on the latest hero’s quirk and his hands ached and his leg bounced so hard it rocked the desk. Like he hadn’t shattered his bones over and over again to use this power when the only advice he’d been given was to clench his buttcheeks and yell “smash!” Like he didn’t exhaust himself every day hitching a smile onto his face, to be bubbly and helpful and bright when in reality he felt small and dull and tired.
Save people with a smile.
Who had ever saved him?
All Might had technically saved him from the Sludge Villain, but in doing so he’d given Izuku a concussion, tried to abandon him without medical care, shattered his dreams, and left him on the roof of a ten story office building. It had been hours before someone heard him banging on the door, sludge rattling in his lungs, cheeks red with tears and the unforgiving sun. So Izuku figured that canceled out.
Silence shook Izuku out of his thoughts, and he realized that All Might had stopped monologuing and was now waiting for a response.
Izuku didn’t have one. He couldn’t recall a single thing the man had said in the past five minutes, although previous speeches left him with a pretty good idea. “Okay,” he said, voice flat.
“Young Midoriya, were you even listening to me?” All Might pinned him with a disappointed gaze. “How do you expect to be a hero if your mind is constantly elsewhere? Would you ignore the citizens in need because you can’t be bothered to pay attention?”
Izuku did have problems with attention. He always had, and it had only gotten worse with time, no matter how much effort he put in. “I’m sorry.”
All Might huffed, waving him away in annoyance. “You need to work harder. I thought you understood the responsibility you were accepting when you took my quirk, but your performance lately leads me to believe otherwise.”
The man stalked off, not waiting for a reply.
My quirk.
Not Izuku’s, as his successor. No, Izuku was, and always would be, a quirkless deku who only managed to stand alongside his peers by the grace of others. For a second, he felt the phantom sensation of hair stuck in his throat, choking him.
His face started prickling, a vague numbness around the edges of his lips, and Izuku barely managed to dive into a nearby supply closet before his breaths started to quicken uncontrollably.
Panic attack.
Izuku began his grounding exercises before pausing. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes, and Izuku kind of wanted to let them. He’d stopped being able to cry a couple months ago, and Izuku honestly missed the release. If this was how he got there, Izuku was willing to take advantage of the situation.
Izuku stopped counting his breaths. He stopped trying to find five things he could see, four things he could hear, and instead like his body take him on its own personal roller coaster. The only thing he did was ensure that he wasn’t loud enough to be heard.
20 minutes passed before the attack eased off. By that point, Izuku was exhausted, slumped on the floor in a puddle of tears and snot and sweat. He felt disgusting, honestly, but too empty and wrung out to care. His hands and face were numb, and his mind was blank.
His phone buzzed.
Another few minutes passed before he mustered the strength to tap the screen. The group chat of the so-called Dekusquad was blowing up, people making study plans and congratulating each other on their performances in today’s heroics class.
His absence was noted, and Iida wasted no time reminding him of his lackluster study habits and how he would benefit from being more participatory in study groups.
Izuku turned off his phone completely, something he likely hadn’t done in months. It sat like a brick in his hand, and Izuku was tempted to chuck it: drop it in the bleach bucket behind him, lose it between the buildings, “accidentally” smash it in training. But he didn’t. He pocketed it, reminding himself that phones were expensive, and his mother worked too hard for him to waste something like that.
Various fluids had dried in a film on his face, cracking when he pushed himself upright with a grimace.
He was so tired.
Thankful for the hoodie he’d been wearing when All Might accosted him, Izuku pulled the hood over his head and ducked out of the closet. It had gotten late, dusk had come and gone. He’d probably missed dinner.
Izuku used his quirk to leap onto his balcony rather than risk running into people in the dorms. Grateful for UA’s extravagance giving each dorm room its own adjoining bathroom, Izuku ran the water as hot as it would go and ignored the stinging as his skin turned a violent shade of purplish red. The heat eased the ache in his bones and turned the numbness into simple exhaustion.
Eventually, he climbed out and, ignoring the small stack of homework that would be due tomorrow, went to sleep.
…
Midoriya wasn’t smiling.
Denki didn’t consider himself the most observant person (his friends ensured he didn’t forget that) but he was more perceptive than people thought he was. And for the past few days, Midoriya had been walking around in a daze. Normally, he was all sunshine and optimism and flashes of scary determination, but now… it was like he’d gone flat. His expressions riveled Shinsou’s deadpan looks, but without the humor behind them.
The ”Dekusquad” seemed to have noticed as well, so Denki had left them to handle it, but…they didn’t seem to actually be doing anything. Rather, they seemed to be reprimanding him for his lack of cheer. Denki caught snippets of their conversations, frowning when he heard Iida lecture the other boy on “heroic attitude” and “pushing through.” Uraraka, who he would have expected to be more emotionally intelligent, seemed to think the solution was smothering the boy in physical affection and pestering him with an endless stream of “are you sure you’re okay”s?
Which, while not the most refined technique, might have been fine if Denki couldn’t see from across the room how Midoriya flinched away from the hugs, looking physically ill, and the stress on his face as he tried to escape the questioning.
“Hey Bakugou,” he started, pitching his voice low, “you knew Midori in middle school right? Do you know what’s going on with him?”
The blond’s head jerked up, red eyes already pissed off to match the snarl on his lips. “Why the fuck are you asking me about Deku, Pikachu? I don’t know what the nerd is doing, and I don’t care, so don’t fucking ask me.”
Denki frowned. “But you’ve noticed how weird he’s been, right? It’s been days since he’s cracked a smile, and he’s the literal incarnation of sunshine.”
“Ooh incarnation, big words from you,” Mina teased, ruffling his hair.
Denki suppressed his annoyance. He loved his friend but they never took him seriously. “I just—”
“Will you shut the fuck up, already?” Bakugou shouted, a small explosion punctuating his words. “No one gives a fuck!”
Denki’s face went blank as he instinctively smothered the flicker of hurt. The blond had been calming down throughout the school year, and while Denki didn’t usually take his words to heart, it hurt to get shut down like that. The other people in the room looked over to see what the fuss was about, and Denki felt his cheeks turn red.
“Right,” he said, quietly. They’d already moved on, Mina with an eyeroll and Kiri with a gentle scold that the angry blond brushed off. Of course Kiri didn’t get yelled at and humiliated in front of everyone. Blinking back tears, Denki slid off the arm of the couch and escaped into the kitchen.
Nobody noticed.
He splashed water on his face, grateful the room was empty, before filling a glass and draining it in one go. The door creaked. Denki withheld a sigh and spun around with a smile. It faltered when he saw Midoriya.
“Hey man,” he said, the curve of his lips softening into something gentler. “You doing alright?”
“Are you?”
Denki blinked at the flat tone. “Ah—”
“I’m sorry,” Midoriya sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as if he could rub some expression into it. “That was meant to sound genuine. I saw Kacchan giving you a hard time in there.”
“No worries,” Denki shrugged, ignoring the prickling in his eyes. “Bakubro’s still learning how to people, you know?”
Midoriya’s eyes went dead, and Denki had to suppress a shiver.
Neither of them spoke again.
…
“Midoriya, see me after classes.”
Izuku nodded, sinking back into his seat and ignoring the concerned looks from Iida and Uraraka. He ignored the anxiety the twist in his stomach for most of the day, and by the end of classes, all he wanted was to go hide in his dorm room. He stopped outside Aizawa’s office.
“Come in.”
Aizawa looked at him, expression flat. “Why have I received more late assignments from you in the past few weeks than since the beginning of the school year?”
“I was informed that my sleeping habits were becoming detrimental to my health,” he replied, monotone. “I prioritized not receiving a concussion in heroics class because of exhaustion over missing an assignment on color theory in costume design.”
“Your fellow classmates don’t seem have the same time management struggles you do.” Aizawa’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance. “Homeroom is an important class. If it’s not a priority for you, I may have to reassess your potential for hero work.”
Those words would have struck terror into his heart a month ago. Now he was just tired. “I understand.”
When the silence stretched, he said, “Is there anything else, sensei?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “No, Midoriya. That’s all.”
He bowed and left, his teacher’s gaze heavy on his back.
“Hey man!”
Izuku paused, gaze flitting to Kaminari’s beaming face. The boy had been friendlier than usual with him lately, stopping him to chat nearly daily. “Kaminari.”
The blond was unfazed by Izuku’s lackluster response. “What did Aizawa want? You didn’t come out in tears, so you’re doing better than me most of the time.”
Izuku’s eyes narrowed. A flash of anger broke through the haze. “He makes you cry?” Kaminari could be a bit much, but he was sweet and genuine and didn’t deserve to be treated like Izuku had been treated by teachers throughout his life.
Kaminari blinked. “I mean,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair, “it’s Aizawa, you know. He’s scary, but I know it’s just because he wants what’s best for us!”
The frown lingered, but Izuku didn’t press. He knew why teachers were scary, and it wasn’t out of some convoluted benevolence. Adults just liked to have power.
“Anyway,” Kaminari laughed again, “so why’d he want to see you?”
Izuku sighed. “Late assignments.”
“Ooh, damn I didn’t think I’d see the day,” Kaminari whistled. “You’re always, like, top of the class. You’re a freaking machine.”
“A machine that spends three hours staring at a page because the only thing they can focus on is the new transfer student’s quirk. That stands up to get a pen and sees that their bed is unmade, so they make that, and oh those cups need to go to the kitchen, but wait Kouda needs help with his math assignment, wait homework? I was supposed to be doing homework, okay, I’ll go upstairs and do that—Jirou’s doing laundry, should I do laundry? No, homework. Okay, I’m sitting down, shit I forgot my pen,” Izuku finished his rant with a sharp inhale, having forgotten to breathe.
Kaminari stared at him. Then he burst out laughing. “Bro, that is such a mood,” he said, wiping his eyes. “ADHD for the win, am I right?”
Izuku’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m not…” he trailed off.
Confusion to match Izuku’s own painted Kaminari’s face. “Uhh…what?” Kaminari blinked. “You’re not?” He looked skeptical. “Are you sure because I’ve had you pegged as an ADHDer since like, five minutes of meeting you.”
“I—" Izuku blinked rapidly. “I don’t know. I thought I was just…lazy and unmotivated.” His throat tightened around the last words, making them thin and strained.
Kaminari’s face dropped. “Oh. Shit, yeah, I get that.” His smile this time was pained. “I mean, I don’t want to try and diagnose you or anything, but I don’t think “unmotivated” is a word any of our classmates would use. “Scattered” maybe, but you’re great at focusing on the things that interest you. Which is pretty much ADHD in a nutshell.”
Was Kaminari right? Izuku’s fists balled as memories assaulted him, insults and scolding and self-recrimination for being so stupid and selfish and forgetful.
“But I’m not like you.” He frowned. He and Kaminari were very different.
Kaminari shrugged. “Sure, but not all neurotypical people are the same. You have more academic interests which helps you out at school. Plus, you could be more inattentive than hyperactive. I’m both.”
“Oh.”
The numbness was creeping back in response to the emotions and stress of the day, and he welcomed it as relief from the twitchiness and how his clothes seemed to suffocate him, his hair poking at his ears.
Kaminari seemed to get that he’d talked enough for the day. Honestly it was the most Izuku had spoken in a while, and his jaw now felt like it was made of lead. The blond took the lead, guiding them through the school halls and into the doors, chattering about things that happened in class and seeming unbothered by the lack of response.
When they get to the dorms, noise assaulted him, and Izuku couldn’t suppress his flinch. Barely managing a muttered goodbye to Kaminari, he fled up the stairs to his dorm.
…
Denki stared as Midoriya disappeared up the stairs, a thoughtful frown on his face. That was the most Denki had managed to get the other boy to speak in the past weeks of attempting to befriend him, and the conversation left him troubled. Denki couldn’t have been the only one who noticed Midoriya’s struggles with attention and hyper fixations, right?
Granted, he hadn’t realized the extent of it until Midoriya’s rant. He winced as he recalled what the other boy had said about being lazy. The word was tinged in bitterness, clearly something he’d heard before from others. Denki could relate. Midoriya had also displayed a surprising hostility towards Aizawa-sensei, something Denki had never noticed before. Maybe he’d had problems with teachers in the past?
All in all, the conversation left him pondering if all these had anything to do with his closed-off behavior the past few weeks. Either way, Denki wasn’t going to stop trying to help.
After their conversation, Midoriya seemed more open with him. They both still hung out with the Dekusquad and Bakusquads respectively, but they found themselves in each other’s dorm more and more, studying or just hanging out. Denki had gifted Midoriya a few of his own fidget toys and shared some advice he’d gotten from his therapist. The green haired boy still struggled the way Denki had before he started his medication, but he was slowly getting back on track.
He still didn’t smile as much.
But Denki noticed that when he did smile, when they were alone, it was softer. Denki had never noticed before, but Midoriya’s blinding, sunshine smile stretched his skin just a little too tight, his eyes never quite reflecting the same brilliance. The one Denki saw was smaller and a little crooked, but it was warmer.
As the weeks dragged on, they grew closer, and Midoriya asked him to call him Izuku. It was a quiet, shy request, blushing a little as if he thought Denki would make fun of him. Denki had smiled and leaned against the other boy in a half hug and told him to call him Denki.
People commented on their new familiarity, Mina teasing him about his new boyfriend. Denki just shrugged, laughing. He didn’t know what he and Izuku were; he just knew it was important.
Izuku had bad days.
The first time Denki had realized this, he hadn’t known what to do. Izuku did such a good job of hiding it from everyone, that it had been a shock to walk into his dorm to find him curled up on the floor, staring blankly at the wall. He’d barely noticed Denki’s presence. When Denki, panicked, had told the catatonic boy that he was going to get Aizawa, Izuku had managed to rouse himself just enough to grab Denki’s sleeve with shaky hands, shaking his head in a silent plea.
Eventually, Denki had caved and laid down on the floor beside him, holding Izuku to his chest as the boy trembled in silent sobs.
People gradually grew used to the quiet version of Izuku, and the concern disappeared. But Denki continued to keep an eye on his friend, and it no longer stirred admiration in his gut when he saw Izuku break himself over and over in simple training exercises; he no longer felt a flash of envy when All Might whisked him away for private lunches, not when he saw Izuku come back from them with dead eyes and trembling hands.
Izuku shared his secrets.
And Denki was baffled the first time Izuku advised him to give the teachers small gifts to ensure they treated him well in class. His confusion turned to concern when Izuku explained how Denki could protect himself by making himself useful, to his friends, to the heroes. He listened with a dawning sense of horror as Izuku confided how difficult it could be to balance all his own responsibilities with taking care of his friends’ homework questions, being their personal therapist, extra training, and helping teachers with grading.
“You, you realize you don’t have to do all that stuff, right?” he’d asked, searching his friend’s face. “The teachers aren’t going to punish you for not doing their work and Iida and Uraraka and them—they enjoy hanging out with you because you’re you, not because of all the stuff you do for them.”
Izuku had only looked at him in confusion, and Denki couldn’t figure out how to explain that his worth wasn’t based on how useful he was (the name Deku was making a horrifying kind of sense), so he just wrapped the boy in his arms and promised he didn’t have to do that stuff with him and pretended not to hear the sniffling from his shoulder.
…
Denki had somehow become his whole world.
Izuku didn’t know how it had happened. One minute, the electric user was goofing off with Kacchan and Mina and Kirishima, the next he was Izuku’s best friend. Izuku knew he wasn’t Denki’s best friend, but that was okay. Denki was kind and he gave warm hugs and he was a surprisingly good listener, even if he didn’t seem to appreciate the advice Izuku had given him.
And that was okay. Izuku wanted him to be safe, so he’d shared all the little tricks he’d learned over the years. But the other boy had seemed so disturbed, and Izuku reminded himself that Denki had a quirk, he had a purpose, a use. Izuku would feel better if the boy took more precautions, but he settled for keeping an eye on the other boy, watching for signs that the others weren’t treating him right.
Izuku knew his obsession with Denki wasn’t exactly healthy, but he couldn’t help it. He was careful to maintain boundaries and not make the other uncomfortable. There was just something about being listened to, even when what he was saying didn’t directly benefit the other, that was addicting.
Izuku decided to tell him about One for All.
Denki had been asking him about his quirk more and more, comparing it to his own quirk with how self-destructive it was. Izuku hadn’t slept for three days when Denki confided in him that his quirk’s drawback hurt, that his dopey smile hid the fact that he was trapped in his body in those moments being electrocuted over and over again with no control over his body. Three days and he’d kept Hatsume awake for half the time working on a design to redirect the voltage so it wouldn’t fry his brain.
Denki had cried when he tried out the support item they presented to him. He still had to be careful when using his max voltage, but the thin suit they’d created to go under his costume steadied the flow of electricity and greatly increased his control of the output.
Now, they sat on the roof of UA, legs dangling over the edge. Denki had been staring at him, open-mouthed, for over a minute.
Izuku let him process.
“A-all Might—” the blond finally managed to splutter.
“Gave me his quirk, yeah,” Izuku confirmed, eyes on the horizon. He felt strangely apathetic about revealing this national secret.
“But—how?!”
“I had to swallow his hair,” Izuku said conversationally. “That might have been worse than drowning in sewer sludge from the villain that caught me when we met.”
Denki made a sound like a cat choking. “The what? No, no start from the beginning.”
Izuku leaned back on his hands, contemplating. It all felt so long ago. Denki had been asking questions about his middle school days a lot lately. Maybe this would be a good time, rip off the Band-Aid. He wouldn’t mention Kacchan though; he didn’t want Denki to feel awkward about being friends with him, or worse feel like he had to choose. Izuku knew he wouldn’t be Denki’s choice.
So he started at the beginning of the school day with the bullying and the suicide bating, leaving out names. He explained getting caught by the villain and All Might’s first response to his question about whether he could be a hero and then how he later changed his mind. The training and the transfer. Breaking three of his limbs in the entrance exam.
By the time he finished, Denki’s face held an expression he’d never seen before. Aggravation? Izuku’s fingers twitched nervously. Did he do something wrong?
“You mean to tell me that you were suicide bated basically your whole childhood, and then assaulted by a villain, and All Might decided to shatter your dreams and leave you injured on a rooftop with no way down. Then he told you that you could be a hero, but only if you took an overpowered quirk that you had no way of controlling, and that you couldn’t tell anyone to, oh I don’t know, get some help since he clearly couldn’t be bothered to teach you himself?!” his voice rose steadily throughout his rant, almost cracking on the last word.
Izuku relaxed as he realized Denki wasn’t mad at him, he was mad for him. The thought kindled a warm feeling in his chest. “Pretty much,” he said with a yawn. “I did manage to get some control of it though, especially after Recovery Girl said she wouldn’t heal me anymore. Had to be extra careful even thought All Might wanted me to just push through and tell the world “I am here,” he finished with an eyeroll.
Cue more spluttering.
Izuku closed his eyes. He was tired.
Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and turned him around to face the blond, yellow eyes searching his face with an unusual intensity. “Izuku, that’s fucked up.” Denki’s hands tightened when Izuku tried to shrug. “No, listen to me, that’s fucked up. None of that should have happened. You should never have been made to feel like the only choice was between either being abused your whole life or taking on a national secret and destroying yourself over and over again. Don’t get me started on All Might and Recovery Girl,” he spat. “All Might took advantage of you, Izuku. And he hasn’t stopped.”
“He needs a successor,” Izuku said dully. “The world needs a “Symbol of Peace.””
“Fuck the world.” Denki pulled him into an almost desperate embrace, smashing Izuku’s face into his chest. “Fuck all of them. I don’t care. I only care that you’re okay. Fuck All Might,” he whispered, seemingly running out of steam. “They don’t deserve you.”
Izuku curled crooked fingers around Denki’s shirt, matching Denki’s desperation. They sat like that, clinging to each other until the air chilled and the sun dipped below the horizon.
…
Denki tried to act as a buffer between Izuku and All Might when he could because fuck that guy. He always had an excuse ready when All Might tried to pull Izuku aside for private “chats,” and he paired up with Izuku as much as possible in heroics class so he could monitor Izuku and One for All. With what he knew now, Denki didn’t trust Izuku not to push past his limit because All Might demanded it.
He couldn’t always be there.
Sometimes, Izuku would disappear between classes and reappear looking like the life had been sucked out of him. Or he’d limp into the dorms late into the night, and Denki would know that All Might had pulled him aside for a private training session that would leave him nearly bedridden for the next few days. Denki couldn’t stop Izuku from going to class those days, but he’d always be ready with heating pads, ice packs and painkillers.
Despite all this, Izuku seemed better. Denki felt a flicker of pride when he saw the relief in Izuku’s eyes and the lightness in his step when Denki’s excuses to All Might worked, and Izuku escaped their meetups. He’d seen Izuku set some boundaries with Uraraka and Iida, standing up for himself and his needs just a little more than he would have dared before Denki.
Today had been amazing.
Denki grinned just thinking about it. He’d actually managed to understand most of the lectures in his classes, and he and Izuku had kicked butt in heroics class. Izuku had seemed almost like his old self at lunch with that brightness to him but more genuine. They’d eaten on the roof again, giggling like children as they swapped memes and TikToks.
Tonight they had plans to raid the kitchen for snacks and read manga all night since they had tomorrow off. Denki had impulse bought an entire series that he planned on crushing in one go, while Izuku was halfway through one of Denki’s favorites that he’s loaned him.
Denki laughed at something Mina said before glancing out the window. It had gotten later than he expected, and it had been a while since he’d seen Izuku. Maybe he’d already gone up to his dorm to set up. Excitement had him bouncing to his feet at the thought of cracking open a new book.
Ignoring his friends’ complaints, he took off to find Izuku, bounding down the dorm hallways before bursting through his friend’s door, unannounced.
It was empty.
Denki frowned. Maybe he had decided to do some extra training? An annoyed huff escaped his lips. They’d just talked about him overworking himself.
Shaking his head, he went to his room instead, planning to grab the books and drop them off in Izuku’s room before heading out to find him.
Denki was about to leave when a piece of paper on the bed caught his eye.
The first line was his name.
He picked it up.
Denki.
The hair kinda sucked, so I wanted you to have options. Denki stared down at the items that had been hiding under the note. Three vials. One with a curly green hair, one with blood, and one with a clear fluid he assumed was saliva. Take it, if you want it. If you don’t, destroy these, please. You don’t need One for All to be a hero. You already are one, and you’re going to make an even better Pro. No matter who tells you otherwise, no matter how many people talk down to you and make you feel like less than you are, hear me, Denki.
You are a hero.
You’re my hero.
—Izuku
P.S. You’ve been the best part of my life. I really wanted to finish that series with you. You’ll just have to tell me about it when you get here.
No.
The blood drained from his face, and Denki swayed as black spots swam in his vision.
No no nonononononononononono
Denki wasn’t aware as the paper slipped from his numb fingers, as his feet pounded against the hallway floor. Bathroom, had his bathroom door been open or closed? Denki burst into Izuku’s room, eyes wild.
Closed.
God no. Had he been here when Denki first came in…?
Denki flew across the room, trying the handle. Locked.
“Izuku!” he shouted.
Nothing.
Denki stepped back, barely pausing as he slammed his foot into the door, kicking it open with enough force that it slammed into the wall and almost slammed closed again before he forced his way in.
Green curls splayed across tile. Scattered orange bottles.
“Izu,” he choked, dropping to his knees, frantic fingers searching for a pulse.
I can’t find it.
Denki didn’t notice that he was repeating that phrase over and over as he pulled Izuku into his lap, shuddering as his head lolled bonelessly.
Stampeding footsteps as people burst into the room.
“Kami—”
“What—”
“Oh my god—”
“Someone get a teacher!”
Someone touched his shoulder, and Denki screamed, electricity sparking off him.
They jerked back, and Denki sobbed, hunching over Izuku’s body Izuku. “I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorry,” he breathed into green curls.
The world blurred.
Hands tried to pull him away, and he fought, screaming until a sweet smelling cloud enveloped him and he knew no more.
…
“I don’t usually spoil books for people, but I guess I can make an exception. Special circumstances.”
Denki straightened the books he’d lined up against the grave, worn and slightly tattered with love. “You know how I feel about love triangles. I almost put the series down when it started going in that direction, but the plot was so good. You didn’t quite get to the big reveal. They all get together in the end. The heroes join forces with the villain to save the world and they realize they’ve been in love with each other all along. Pretty cool, huh?” he huffed a sad laugh, hand dropping from the cracked spine. “You would have liked that. Always had so much love to go around, we thought it was silly when people limited themselves like that.”
They sat in silence for a while, Denki dragging his fingers through the grass that was just starting to sprout over the plot. “I wish you hadn’t done it.” His voice was tight. “It hurts so much. And I know it was hurting you to be here, but I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to fix it.
“I should have tried harder.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I thought I was helping; I thought you were happier, I should have known.
“I’m sorry, Izuku.” He dropped his head back against the grave, closing his eyes. “I was right there. I’m so sorry.”
I’m not.
Denki shot upright, eyes wide. “Izu?”
A shadowy figure teased the edge of his vision.
I was so tired, Denki, Izuku’s voice whispered. I’d been tired for so long. I just…didn’t have anything left to give. And maybe it would have gotten better. But you, having you in my life was the best part. And I’m so happy I got to have that.
Denki sobbed, not stopping to question whether he was going crazy. “I need you. I can’t—I can’t do this—”
You can. I know you can. I picked you, didn’t I? Don’t you have any faith in me?
A broken laugh broke through the sobs. “Always, Izu.”
He could have sworn he felt Izuku’s hand brush over his cheeks, over the tears. You’re already my hero. Now you get to go and be the world’s.
Denki shook his head violently. “I don’t want to do this without you.”
You don’t have to, Denki. I’m right here. I always will be.
Denki’s fists curled, a different kind of lightning flashing under his skin. “I’m holding you to that.”
A quiet laugh. You’re right, you know. Love triangles are the worst.
His smile was watery. “Yeah, Izu. They really are.”
The next person to wander through the graveyard would find a stack of waterlogged manga and the distinct pattern of lightning scorching the ground beside a small grave with dates far too close together.